


Denial and Deviousness

by wicked3659



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-18 08:11:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8155243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wicked3659/pseuds/wicked3659
Summary: Jazz likes Prowl. Everybody knows. Jazz will still deny it though. And he is not I repeat, not fragging jealous!Prowl likes Jazz although Jazz doesn't know and would still deny it anyway. Prowl takes the matter into his own hands.





	1. Green eyed monster

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [anniversarychallenge16](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/anniversarychallenge16) collection. 
  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [anniversarychallenge16](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/anniversarychallenge16) collection. 



> Written for Prowl Jazz anniversary challenge

Security Director or not, he won't see me coming.

The optics hidden beneath the visor watched and narrowed when a hand brushed over plating. It was the slightest of touches, innocent enough to any mech watching. However, Jazz wasn't just any mech and he saw the slight lift of those doorwings and the barely visible smile of amusement. In the short time left before the end of the meeting, Jazz had imagined several dozen ways of dismembering their security director. Optimus Prime's voice brought him back to reality. 

“If there's nothing else?” 

“I'd like permission to do a scouting run through the space bridge, Prime,” Jazz answered casually. 

“Jazz tensions are at an all time high, it's not safe--” 

“--I'm aware of the risks, Prowler,” he flashed the other black and white a grin, feeling a small smug sense of satisfaction that his attention and concern was entirely focused on him. “We're low on supplies, will be in and out just to see what's available.”

“It would be good for security to investigate Decepticon activity too,” Red Alert pointed out. 

‘I bet it would,’ Jazz thought to himself. He hadn't missed the way Red Alert’s helm had crackled at his nickname for Prowl. Mech probably hated that he was so familiar with Prowl. At the back of Jazz's processor he knew he was being irrational in his jealousy and he didn't much care. “Don't worry about me.”

“It is my job to worry about you, Jazz,” Prowl frowned at him. 

Jazz flashed him a brilliant smile. He could not deny that hearing those words made his spark flutter, not that he would admit that to anyone of course. His jealousy was a relatively new development, Jazz figured that it would work itself out, given time.

****

Ask him to dance for Primus' sake!  
Prowl never came to parties. That was just fact. That never stopped Jazz from asking him however. 

“Of course he says yes to Prime.”

Blaster gave his longtime friend a sidelong glance. “He is Prime, pretty hard to say no to,” he chuckled.  
Jazz huffed and put on some particular loud music with a heavy beat and glared across the dimly lit rec room at the two mechs sharing friendly conversation over high grade. “Don’t see what’s so special ‘bout him, why doesn’t he say yes when I ask him hm?” 

Blaster just rolled his optics. “Maybe he’s shy? Maybe he was ordered. Maybe he just wanted to come this time.”

“The one time I didn’t ask him?” Jazz asked sharply. 

Managing to stifle a smirk, Blaster shrugged. “If it bothers you so much, go over there and talk to him.”

Jazz resumed glaring at them before straightening up and nodding. “You know what? I will, let’s see him try and avoid me then,” he smirked darkly. 

“Jazz, I really don’t think he’s av-- and he’s gone,” Blaster cut himself off, shaking his helm in bemusement as Jazz flipped off the sound stage and practically sauntered his way over to their two commanders. “Can’t just deal with his crush like a normal mech, can he?” the mech murmured to Steeljaw who chirred up at him. Blaster huffed a laugh and changed the tune. “This is for all those with a secret crush,” he purred into the microphone, blatantly grinning in Jazz’s direction as the mech threw him a look that would send Megatron running. “Take the plunge and ask that special someone up to dance,” Blaster winked subtly at his friend. He would get it with both barrels later but it was worth it just to watch the ever unflappable Jazz get flustered for once. 

****

Who does he think he is?

Jazz was not jealous. He fragging well wasn't! This was just his instincts kicking. Special ops mecha were trained to figure an individual out based on their speech, mannerisms and field fluctuations without the other ever knowing they were even in the same room. This was not jealousy. This was protecting his own. As much as he and Prowl bickered during meetings, the stubborn mech was still an Autobot and that made him one of Jazz's. This other mech. This neutral who had been found on their scouting mission, was not. Jazz didn't trust him. 

His optics flitted to where the mech touched Prowl's arm as he asked him a question, and his upper lip curled slightly at the tilt of his helm as he smiled at the Praxian. He fought back the urge to stab the neutral mech through his optics when Prowl looked up and smiled at his question. _Smiled!_

“Are we done here, mech has to go through the usual security checks with Red,” Jazz spoke up sharply. 

Prowl glanced at him momentarily. “In just a moment, I need to finalise a couple of things first,” he looked back at the neutral mech. “You said you are from Crystal City is that correct? I will need to verify your identity with our records.”

The mech smiled and leaned in closer to Prowl. “Well between you and me, I lived in Crystal City, but you know nothing compares to Praxus for a Praxian.”

Prowl's doorwings lifted up and his optics brightened. “You're Praxian? I didn't know any others had survived.”

“Well you learn how to get out of bad situations when you've lived the life I have,” the mech replied somberly. “Almost lost my mind when I lost my sensor panels.”

“I can quite believe it, it's one of the worst things you could do to a Praxian,” Prowl answered sympathetically. “You must have quite the strength of will to have overcome it.”

“I have lots to live for and the struggle is worth it having now met another Praxian as esteemed and as attractive as you,” the mech stated lowly, his fingertips brushing the lower edge of Prowl's sensor panels as Prowl himself actually ducked his helm with a shy smile.

Jazz resisted the urge to roll his optics. “Alright, let's go Slick, questions aren't going to ask themselves,” he interrupted tugging on the mech's arm a little harder than was necessary. 

“But, Jazz--” Prowl started to protest. 

“Sorry, Prowl you can ask questions when we're done, time is of the essence with these things,” Jazz replied tersely. 

Prowl relented and nodded. “Of course. I'll speak with you later,” he spoke to their newcomer. 

“I look forward to it.”

“Over my shiny aft,” Jazz uttered under his breath, faking a static burst as he cleared his intake with a grin. If this mech wasn't careful he'd find himself magnetised to the side of the Nemesis.

“Sorry Jazz?” Prowl canted his helm quizzically at him. 

“I said we gotta move fast,” he flashed a grin at Prowl. Damn the mech was too sharp for his own good. 

****

Manipulation.

He tried not to frown, it was none of his business really. What other mechs got up to in their own time, he had no rights being aware of, unless it was in some way detrimental to the welfare of the base and the autobots. Prowl sighed. Having Jazz's personal schedule memorised was woefully unprofessional and well beyond the realms of his duty and yet he could not help himself. 

Still there was no harm done simply knowing it. He told himself this often. Discreetly altering Blaster’s schedule more often than was necessary to disrupt Jazz's routine was probably pushing it though. Yet, he did not stop himself. 

Prowl had come to accept that there were some things he could not control. Like the way his spark did that little dance whenever Jazz spoke to him or Primus forbid, smiled at him. Or the way his optics lingered subtly a little too long on the other black and white when he meandered into meetings late or wandered cheerfully through the rec room. Nor that murderous rage that bubbled up to the surface whenever Blaster leaned a little too close or Jazz disappeared into the mech's room during his downtime. 

Prowl definitely preferred things he could control like meetings for command staff, intelligence meetings with special ops or duty rosters for communications mechs who had gotten just a little too handsy during the last party for Prowl’s liking. 

He smiled to himself as Jazz appeared at his office door and asked if he was bothering him. He had nothing to do as Blaster was busy but he wasn't ready to recharge yet. Offering the vacant seat, Prowl said he welcomed the company and didn't mind at all. Jazz smiled brightly and internally Prowl all but melted. 

Nope. Prowl couldn't control everything, but what he could control, he manipulated to his full advantage. If it earned him that smile every time, he would continue to do it until either he got over this ridiculous phase - because he was certainly not a jealous mech, thank you very much. That would be highly irrational, uncharacteristic and inconvenient - or the heat death of the universe. Whichever came first. Prowl was a patient mech and when that visor caught his optic, he found he was in no immediate rush to do much of anything constructive. 

How utterly perplexing and inconvenient, Prowl thought to himself, but then that did sum up Jazz in a spark pulse, he decided with vague amusement. 

****  
Not the Prime!

Jazz knew he was being ridiculous this time. He and Optimus were friends and he'd known the mech a long time. Knew that he only had optics for one. They had been separated a long time though and a mech had needs. Even a Prime. Who better than his most trusted officer to indulge in? Jazz scowled and cleaned his rifle more roughly than was necessary. The way they'd been talking quietly together, Optimus’ hand touching Prowl's arm and his hand? Yeah he got that Prowl was upset over something but that went above and beyond didn't it? 

Why couldn't Prowl come to him? They were friends. Jazz cared. He would listen and offer comfort. Jazz couldn't decide if it was the fact that Prowl normally turned to him or that he'd turned to Optimus specifically this time. The two mechs were close friends and Jazz knew all too well how that closeness could spill over into something a mech couldn't control. 

Slamming his gun down hard on the counter. Jazz audibly growled. This line of thinking was getting him no where. “I should go speak to him,” he declared to the empty room resolutely. “We're friends surely me noticing that he was upset and coming to talk to him would mean something. Yeah, I'll do that,” he quickly reassembled his gun. “And if not then I'll just have to go shoot something.”

“Do it quick won't you?” 

Jazz whirled around and scowled at the red mech grinning at him. “‘Hide you should know better than to sneak up on a mech.”

“Oh I do, but if you can call me walking around normally, sneaking,” the older mech smirked. “You were so lost in your own thoughts I doubt you would have noticed ol’ bucket head until he'd removed yours.”

Jazz frowned. Had he really been so out of it? He turned to grab his weapon when Ironhide clamped a hand on his shoulder. 

“I could feel the tension and frustration in your field before I walked into the room, not to mention your je--”

“--I dare you to finish that sentence, mech,” Jazz bit out tersely. He was not jealous. He. Was. Not. 

Ironhide just laughed. “Whatever you're telling yourself it isn't working. I'm pretty sure even the cons know by this point. Do the smart thing and tell him before you fry your processor tying yourself up in knots.”

“No idea what you're talking about,” Jazz grinned, shrugging his shoulder out of Ironhide’s grasp and walking out of the room. “Should keep out of the gossip mill ‘Hide, it's starting to addle your processor.”

Ironhide simply shook his helm as Jazz left. “He's as stubborn as the other one.” 

“You're telling me,” Mirage shimmered into view. “Seriously considered offlining myself if I had to stay hidden in here with his angst much longer.” 

“You get what you need?” Ironhide smirked.

“And then some. Jazz thinks out loud, surprisingly for an ops mech,” the spy raised an optic ridge.

“Good let's see him refute it this time.”


	2. Fruition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prowl discovers he has an end to his unending patience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a silly fic quite unrealistic and slightly ooc but I hope you enjoyed it.

6\. A Plan

“You're thinking about him again,” the security director stated blandly. 

Prowl immediately straightened and frowned slightly. “I was doing nothing of the sort.”

Red Alert smiled. “Might be able to fool Jazz into thinking you don't have feelings for him but you can't fool me. Did you not see the way he was staring when I touched your doorwing in that last meeting?”

Prowl frowned and looked straight ahead as they walked side by side. “Red I would appreciate not being used as a pawn to validate your theories.”

“So you did see it,” the security director laughed. “Good. At least when he kills me in my recharge it won't be for nothing.” 

Prowl pursed his lip components and his doorwings fluttered unconsciously. “He really was staring wasn't he? I thought maybe I was seeing what I wanted to see.” 

“He was,” Red Alert laughed. “I dare say even Optimus noticed and he's usually almost as oblivious as Jazz.” 

Prowl allowed himself a little smile at that. “Perhaps your theory warrants a little more attention.” 

Red Alert couldn't keep the eagerness from his field. “So you're going to talk to him, tell him how you feel?” 

“Nothing of the sort,” Prowl responded in mild shock. “A theory must be rigorously tested before it can be considered validated.”

Groaning, Red Alert rubbed his faceplates. “You're just as stubborn as he is!”

“I feel that this bodes well for our potential compatibility,” Prowl stated with a smug smile. 

“Or your potential deactivation at the hands of well meaning but exasperated friends.” 

Prowl simply fluttered his doorwings demurely. “You wouldn't. Who else would listen to your rants about Inferno?” 

****

7\. A Dance

Roping in Prime unawares was probably beneath him but it had the predicted effect. Prowl was pleased. Having arrived at the party with Optimus had definitely touched a nerve in Jazz, if the way he sauntered over and interjected himself into their conversation was anything to go by. Prowl of course did not show any of this to Jazz and maintained a friendly yet still almost disinterest presence as the ops mech chatted on cheerfully. 

When the music changed to something slower and softer, Prowl threw a subtle glare at the security director huddled in a booth in the corner. The mech smiled at him innocently and pointed over to Blaster who currently wore a slag eating grin on his face as he spoke into the mic, his gaze unmistakably on Jazz. This wasn’t part of his plan, but it worked nicely. It helped that others seemingly knew of Jazz’s emotional state. Prowl couldn’t help be amused at Jazz’s suddenly quiet field as he clamped down on it tightly. 

//Blaster said others are getting up to dance and he thought Jazz would have asked you, not strike up a fragging conversation with Prime..//

//He appears to be mistaken.// 

//Yeah, who knew Jazz was shy?// Red Alert chuckled into the comm. //You should ask him. It’ll completely throw him off. Blaster thinks it might be what he needs to tip him over the edge and finally admit his feelings for you.//

//And if he doesn’t and you’re both wrong?// Prowl replied, taking a nonchalant sip of his cube as bots began to pair up and sway together. 

//Every mech on base can’t be wrong, Prowl. Even you’re not that oblivious, much to absolutely everybody’s surprise.//

//What if he says no?// Prowl asked suddenly unsure of himself. Yes it was one thing being aware of one’s own feelings for another and being subsequently aware of their feelings for you, no matter how much they denied it to everyone who cared to listen, it was entirely another thing to act on aforementioned feelings with the object of one’s affections. 

//He’s not going to say no.//

//You can’t--//

//--Ask him. You’ll only regret it if you don’t.// Red Alert paused and added more gently. //At least you’ll know either way right? Besides it’s just a dance.//

****

Blaster grinned widely at Jazz who was uncharacteristically sombre. “Sooo?” the communications mech prompted. 

“So what?”

“You danced. With Prowl… how was it? Were there sparks?” Blaster teased and poked Jazz playfully, laughing when Jazz batted his hand away.

“Mech was just being polite,” Jazz replied with a shrug. “You know what Prowl is like, when he saw Red ask Optimus to dance, I was one of the only ones not dancing and he knows I like dancing. He was being a good friend.” 

Blaster’s face fell. “I love you, Jazz, you know that right?” 

Jazz snorted a laugh. “Mech are you charged?” 

Blaster swatted Jazz’s helm right over a helm horn with a frown. 

“Hey!” Jazz yelped. “What the fragging frag was that for?!” 

“I am your friend and I love you and as a friend who loves you, I have to tell you that you’re the dumbest most stubborn fragger ever sparked out of Cybertron.”

“Bit harsh,” Jazz grumbled with a scowl. “Not sure I deserved that.” 

“You’re seriously telling me you don’t see it? You don’t think that Prowl had any other reason to ask you to dance other than being polite?” 

Shrugging, Jazz pinned Blaster with a confused look. “What’s there to see? Me and Prowl have been friends a long time and I know I’ve been acting glitched lately but it’ll pass and it doesn’t mean anything and a dance is just a dance, mech. Prowl is far too bonded to duty to have feelings for someone anyway. I know him too well for that. I would know if he had feelings.” 

Blaster’s helm hit the table with a resounding clang. “You wouldn’t know it even if Astrotrain had tattooed it onto your face with his fists,” he grumbled into the table in dismay. 

“You’re not making sense. I think you’ve had enough high grade, mech,” Jazz chuckled. “Let’s get you back to your quarters.”

“There’s not enough high grade in the galaxy to get me through this,” Blaster complained. He knew Jazz had a stubborn streak but honestly at this point, he would swear the mech was just being deliberately obtuse. Though what he couldn’t figure out was why.

****  
8\. Possibilities

“Fragger has changed my schedule again,” Blaster complained as he marched into the makeshift interrogation room. 

Jazz stared at his friend blankly. “Mech I'm in the middle of something here,” he pointed out, gesturing to the smirking neutral Praxian they'd bumped into on Cybertron. 

Frowning, Blaster mumbled an apology before glaring at Jazz. “You can't tell me that it's just a coincidence. This is the fifth time in two months and it's always after a party, you know after you decide to spend the night on my floor playing video games with the bitlets because you don't want to go back to empty quarters?”

Jazz shook his helm. “There'll be a perfectly good explanation for it. Prowl doesn't just change duty shifts for no reason.”

“Oh there's a reason alright. You,” Blaster retorted pointing a finger at Jazz.

“You're glitched mech, why would Prowl do that?” Jazz scoffed.

“Oh I don't know… BECAUSE YOU SPEND THE NIGHT IN MY QUARTERS!” at Jazz's nonplussed stare Blaster huffed in exasperation. “Don't you think that perhaps he's jealous and is stopping us from hanging out together?”

Jazz waved him off dismissively. “Mech it's just a coincidence. If Prowl was bothered he'd tell me.”

“Would he though?” Blaster folded his arms and glared at his friend.

“Prowl is that pretty Praxian I was talking to when you brought me in? Black and white, glorious sensor panels, in need of a good throw down frag?” the other mech spoke up.

“That'll be him,” Blaster responded as Jazz scowled at the newcomer.

“Hey! None of that,” he warned. 

The other mech chuckled. “Primus, yeah that mech has it bad for you. I mean I was laying on the charm and I mean laying it right out there and he barely even noticed.”

“The frag he didn't,” Jazz countered hotly. “What was all that smiling and fluttering then huh? Were you even in the same room?” 

The mech laughed brightly. “Frag, you clearly don't know how to read Praxian.”

“You were both flirting I know what I saw,” Jazz argued defensively. 

“What you saw was me flirting and Prowl being typically Praxian polite.”

“What the frag are you talking about?”

“The sensor panels, we communicate with our panels almost as much as the average mech does with their field or glyphs. Prowl shot me down, he was just being nice about it,” he smirked up at Jazz devilishly. “When you spoke to him though, when you seemed upset, his entire demeanour changed. He would have stopped the galaxy spinning if it would have made you feel better.”

“You're talking slag. You don't even know Prowl!” Jazz argued. 

“I am Praxian though and even though I don't have them anymore if there's one thing I know how to read; it's sensor panels. That mech is so into you, I felt embarrassed for him,” he chuckled, ignoring Jazz's death glare.

Blaster hummed with a faint grin. “He is Praxian.”

“Shut the frag up, Blaster,” Jazz pouted, frowning deeply. Could it be possible that Prowl actually had feelings for him? What would that mean? Did he even want to start anything? What he felt was just a distraction, an irrational infatuation borne from many vorns working together. That's all it was. Wasn't it? 

“Has the credit chit finally dropped?” Blaster teased, tapping the side of Jazz's processor. 

Batting his friend’s hand away, Jazz's engine revved. “Doesn't change anything. Mech hasn't said anything so obviously doesn't want to risk ruining our friendship. I respect that, now frag off and let me do my job.” 

“You are hopeless,” Blaster groused as he left the room.

“If we were all as oblivious or stubborn as you I reckon Cybertronians would have gone extinct before the war.” The other mech continued to chuckle, despite trying to stifle it behind his hand when Jazz glared at him.

“No more words better leave your mouth if you want your helm to stay attached to your frame,” Jazz warned with irritation, still contemplating the possibility that Prowl might have feelings for him. Primus it would change everything.

****

9\. Devious Revelations

“I'm not sure what you want me to do with this information.” 

Ironhide planted himself in the seat opposite Jazz and held the datapad right in front of his face. “This is Prowl, that is me telling him how you feel using what ‘Raj recorded in the weapons room. That's Prowl nodding and telling me he knows and that we’re not the first to point it out.”

“So?” Jazz responded with a frown. “Mech’s job is to figure other mechs out. That's nothing new.”

“I am here because Prowl told me to come and tell you what we told him. So you would know that he knows that you know,” Ironhide pointed out. 

Jazz pinched his nasal bridge. “That makes my processor hurt.”

“So what are you going to do about it?” 

“Nothing.”

“What? Why?!” Ironhide practically shrieked. 

“He knows how I feel but he doesn't say anything about how he feels. Him getting you to tell me so I know he knows is just courtesy and him thinking tactically. If I know he knows and he knows I know he knows then he knows I won't feel uncomfortable or cornered by him if someone tries to point it out to him or me and so there won't be any pressure to do anything and our friendship won't be strained.” 

Ironhide stared at him blankly. “... I have no idea what you just said.”

“Basically Prowl is letting me off the hook. No pressure. No harm done,” Jazz explained with an easy smile. 

Ironhide facepalmed and shook his helm. “You're insane you know that?” 

Jazz canted his helm in acknowledgement. “It has been said.”

“You and him both. If I've learnt nothing else it's that you two fragging deserve each other,” Ironhide sat back in defeat.

“What's that supposed to mean?” Jazz frowned. He could take the insults but he didn't much tolerate insults towards Prowl. 

“It means,” another even voice interrupted, “That perhaps our similarities make us more compatible than either you or I were willing to admit. Although I have to give you credit, your obtuse stubborn streak runs far longer than mine,” with an absent doorwing flick, Prowl regarded Jazz coolly. “I have reached the end of my patience and need to speak with you… in private.”

Jazz downed his cube and stood. “Okay,” he answered uncertainly. As far as he knew he hadn't done anything Prowl could have been annoyed at him for. Not recently anyway, so why had he run out of patience? “What about?” 

Prowl made a calculated move by stepping into Jazz's space just enough without warning to get the ops mech to back up against the table. 

“Prowl?” Jazz's visor brightened as Prowl took another step forward, practically pinning him between the table and his own frame.

Prowl simply smirked and fluttered his doorwings, a hand reaching up to cup Jazz's faceplates before curling about the back of his helm. 

“What are yo--”

Prowl placed a finger to Jazz's lip components. “--Ssshh,” he commanded before closing the distance between them to press a chaste yet tender kiss to Jazz's lips. 

The ops mech whined and gripped the table, leaning forward when Prowl finally pulled away, after a long lovely moment. 

“Try denying that,” Prowl purred smugly, before stepping back and straightening. “I'll be in my office,” he declared before turning on his heel and sweeping out of the rec room. 

Jazz stared after him, mouth gaped, visor bright. “Th’ frag just happened” he managed to utter as Ironhide chortled behind him. 

“Looks like I lost that bet,” the red mech grinned, clapping Jazz on the back. “Most of us thought you'd cave first and make the first move.”

“Make the first what? Bet? What the frag? How long have--”

“--I known? Since Prowl roped me in to help execute his plan. Prowl though,” Ironhide laughed brightly. “That mech has known since you first started getting jealous and has played you like a musical instrument in an attempt to get you to admit your feelings and make a move.”

“Why wouldn't he just tell me?” Jazz spluttered. 

“Have you met you?” Bumblebee called out. “You get it into your processor that you don't believe something or it couldn't possibly be true, not even Primus can make you believe it. Guess that's why you're head of ops, great at those cover stories,” the minibot chuckled.

“Yeah none of us expected Prowl to crack first,” Sideswipe snickered. “He's been trying to get you to notice for months.” 

Jazz rubbed his face. “Months?”

“Jazz I'm your friend but when you don't want to hear or see something nobody can make you see it,” Blaster smiled at the mech. “Now get your aft to his office before you start to convince yourself it's all some elaborate prank.” 

“Yeah,” Jazz replied distractedly, suddenly scrambling out of the rec room to a chorus of encouraging cheers.

****


End file.
